Black Secrets
by Aereya
Summary: Regulus Black turned from the Dark Lord in the end, he managed to steal Slytherin's locket and escape with his life. How will he cope with the imprisonment of his brother? And how will this affect Harry Potter, the godson of Sirius.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer, The World of, the Characters in & the Adventures of Harry Potter belongs to JKR, I'll have to content myself with playing around with her things it seems.

Chapter 1

Regulus Arcturus Black cursed under his breath and quickly placed his teacup back on the saucer in an attempt to avoid spilling the scolding beverage over his hands. The fiery pain in his arm had put an abrupt end to the companionable silence he had shared with his old friend Severus Snape, who arched his eyebrow quizzically at his outburst.

"Summon, I'm afraid you will have to show yourself out" he explained with a slight grimace as he sent a houself after his robe and mask.

"The Dark Lord rarely summons only one of us" Severus said as he rose from the table, frowning.

Regulus sighed worriedly as he donned his black robe and mask "I hope I have not displeased our Master" he gave his guest a small smile before he hurried outside and disapparated.

Severus stared for a moment at the spot his friend had occupied only seconds ago, as if the empty space could somehow provide him with an explanation. "So do I, Regulus" he softly whispered, before he to disappeared with a loud crack.

Regulus destination turned out to be the outskirts of a large forest clearing, where the trees loomed ominously over him and the starless sky did nothing to illuminate the darkness. There was a metallic smell in the air that could only be blood.

Though every instinct screamed at him to run away, or to at least make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible, Regulus refused to give in, instead making the most of his considerable height. He was of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, a pureblood wizard, and he was the one to be feared here.

That was what he told himself as he strengthened his Occlumency shields and proudly walked towards the center of the clearing, where a bonfire was lit.

The Dark Lord was standing in the middle of the glade, five masked Death Eaters at his side, watching what they probably considered the amusement of the evening – a bloody lump that vaguely resembled a man, his limbs twisted in unnatural angles and his features interrupted by long bloody gashes. As a smaller Death Eater almost lovingly traced the blade of a vicious looking knife along the man's collarbone, a low moan could be heard, alerting Regulus that the poor man was still alive. The sound pleased the knife wielder, who let out a mad giggle, identifying her as Bellatrix Lestrange, Regulus cousin.

As his steps brought him closer to the others, the Dark Lord turned around, a gleeful expression on his face, Regulus hid his disgust behind his occlumency shield and quickly went through the exercises Severus had taught him, coating his mental barriers with selected "safe" memories to avoid suspicion. He could feel Lord Voldemort's presence brush against his mind and hurriedly sank to his knees, kissing the hem of his Master's cloak to avoid as much eye contact as possible.

"Regulus, my faithful one," the Dark Lord hissed affectionately and patted him absentmindedly on the head, as one might pet his favourite dog.

"You called me, my Lord," Regulus answered evenly, in a successful attempt to keep the anger he felt at a member of the house Black groveling on the ground, even if it was for a Dark Lord, inside.

"Indeed I did." Voldemort took a step away, but Regulus continued kneeling, knowing better than to rise before the command was given. The Dark Lord had been almost as unstable as his most devoted follower, Bellatrix lately, severely punishing every slight; real or imaginary.

"I understand your house is in possession of a house elf" it was more a statement than a question, and Voldemort barely waited for an affirmative nod before continuing, "I will give you the honour of lending me that elf's service."

Regulus suppressed the urge to ask his master why, and once again nodded his head.

"Yes my lord." The Dark Lord motioned for him to stand up, and Regulus quickly complied, brushing off a few leaves that had stuck on his robes.

"Kreacher!" he called.

The house elf materialized in front of him moments later, his grumpy face taking in the surroundings before answering. "Yes, young master Black."

"The Dark Lord has use of your service, Kreacher, I need not explain to you what great honour this is to the house of Black."

"Yes, Master," the house elf had recognized the title of the Dark Lord his Mistress, the great Walburga Black, had spoke so reverently of, and would do anything to make her and his young master proud.

"You are to obey his every order. Return to me when your task is completed," Regulus said, earning a nod from the creature.

"Excellent" Voldemort hissed as he smiled a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. It gave Regulus a bad feeling, but questioning his Master was a bad idea, and only partly because of the pain Voldemort would no doubt hand out if displeased. Regulus and his family had pledged the Dark Lord their allegiance, and in return he had promised them power returned to the purebloods, and sworn to exile the Muggleborns' and half-breeds' from the magical community. This had long been the ancient and most noble House of Black's goal, and they supported it wholeheartedly, with the exception of Regulus' older brother Sirius.

Voldemort turned to Regulus.

"You may go," he stated, before he turned around and walked back to the others, where Bellatrix was making a futile attempt to heal the prisoner so she could start the torture again.

Regulus quickly apparated home, relieved that he had not been asked to join in with his cousin.

He had never enjoyed causing others pain like Bellatrix, nor had he the burning desire to terminate all but the purebloods. He simply did not care to mix with their sort, seeing as he was their better.

Pulling off his black robes and mask and throwing them in a corner of the room, he almost fell onto the bed. For a few moments he just lay there, breathing. Then he pulled up the covers to his chin, too tired to even think of brushing his teeth.

As exhausted as he was, sleep eluded him.

The covers were too warm, the pillows too hard and his mind just wouldn't let unwanted thoughts go, thoughts that if left unguarded would result in a Crucio by his Lord, and that was if he were lucky.

The Dark Lord had been Regulus' idol since he was a child; Walburga had told him stories of the Great Voldemort, who was going to save them all from the ever present threat of half bloods and worse - muggleborns.

Lord Voldemort had been described as a charming, charismatic and idealistic man, who wanted to make their world a better place. Regulus had never had any reason to second guess himself for joining his righteous army, not until now anyway.

When Regulus first met him a couple of years ago, he had been everything his mother had told him to be and more. He had befriended Regulus, taken interest in the young man and told him he could be among the highest ranked in Voldemort's circle. Regulus had taken his words to heart, doing his very best to please the Dark Lord.

He was no longer entirely sure it had been the right choice; Lord Voldemort had become more irate and cruel as time passed. Regulus could barely recognize the witty man he had been in the feared man he had become. Though Regulus didn't have any love for mudbloods, he could no longer write off the cruelty he had witnessed as just or fair.

He could not leave; he would be hunted down and killed, along with his family. To protect them, he would have to keep up his charade of content Death Eater. He mentally berated himself for getting into this sticky situation in the first place - he had thrown himself headfirst into the war without thinking it through, as many from the Black family were prone to do.

It was times like these that he really missed his brother. Though Sirius was even more impulsive than Regulus, his protective nature had always had a soothing effect on the younger brother. That was until three years ago, when one especially spectacular fight between Sirius and his mother had had him leaving number 12 Grimmauld place for good.

Not that the relationship between the brothers had been all that good at the end. Regulus had ended up in Slytherin, much to Sirius disappointment. And from that point on Walburga had called Regulus the "better son". Holding him up as a shining example of virtue in comparison to Sirius. Even though his brother had never consciously sought after his parents support, it was obvious that he could not help resent his brother for this.

A quick Tempus revealed it was almost three in the morning, and Regulus started to get desperate for some sleep, it took almost half an hour of Occlumency exercises to put his mind at rest, allowing him to relax enough to drift off.

As his young master disapparated, Voldemort motioned for Kreacher to follow, and quickly vanished from the clearing as well. The house elf wasn't happy about his assignment, but wouldn't ruin the Blacks' reputation by appearing hesitant.

Using his elf magic to follow Voldemort was easy, and Kreacher soon found himself in a damp, dark cave where the smell of rotting seaweed dominated. Behind him was a tunnel halfway filled with water, that most likely lead back out to the unsettled sea.

The Dark Lord was standing a few feet away facing a part of the wall that looked exactly like the rest of it; grey uneven rock.

He retrieved a beautiful sacrificial knife from a pocket of his robe and almost elegantly sliced a shallow gash along his left palm, then smeared the resulting blood across the rocky surface, causing a large part of the seemingly solid rock to faintly glow, before disappearing.

The Dark Lord stepped over the threshold without as much as a glance at the elf. Kreacher followed uneasily into a large cavern, where the only light was that of Voldemort's wand. With it, the elf could make out the shore of a lake, the black surface ominously calm.

A small wooden boat appeared in front of Voldemort, who effortlessly boarded. Kreacher quickly did the same, not wanting to anger the Dark Lord by making him wait for a lowly elf.

As they slowly made their way into the darkness, a pale, half rotted hand ascended from the depths of the water, it reached up, as if trying to grasp the elf, who had been sitting near the edge of the boat to make as much space as possible for Voldemort. With a flick of his wand, the Dark Lord scared the thing back below the surface with a fire spell.

Seeing the elf's terror, he laughed "Do my guardians unsettle you, elf?"

The boat arrived at a small island, a stone pillar rising from its center, and Voldemort climbed out of the boat without waiting for an answer. This was good enough for Kreacher, who didn't have a good reply anyway.

The Dark Lord handed him a simple cup, and pointed at the pillar "Your task is to drink every drop of liquid in the basin."

Kreacher had a very bad feeling about drinking anything presented to him by a Dark Lord, but could see no way out of it. Determined to get it over with as quickly as possible, he filled the cup with the liquid and gulped it all down; emptying two more cups of the liquid before he started to feel any effects.

A sense of dread so strong it overpowered everything gripped the house elf, causing him to stumble to his knees. If he had had any control over his magic he would have disappeared now, but it wasn't possible. Next came an intense pain that didn't seem anchored to anything physical, but instead seemed to emanate from his very being. A low wince escaped him, and he dropped the cup.

He could hear the Dark Lord laughing somewhere behind him, while filling the cup once more. "A rather nice defence, don't you think?" Voldemort said as he handed him the cup. As the elf seemed reluctant, Voldemort forced the cup to his lips. "Your master ordered you to drink, elf, obey!"

Kreacher had no choice but to do it, he emptied the cup only to have it refilled. The cycle continued until he lost count of how many cups he had drained, and all the while the Dark Lord bragged about the ingeniousness of his hiding place.

"You see, no one could ever drink it all by themselves, and Dumbledore's fools are too weak to sacrifice someone."

When the hollow was finally emptied, a devouring thirst for water filled Kreacher. His need for it was so desperate that he thought he would even consider accepting clothes, as long as some fluid accompanied them. Yet the large amount of poison coursing though his small body would not let him move, and so, he lay still on the ground.

Voldemort observed the elf curiously, but when he had not moved for twenty minutes, his breathing shallow and laboured, a smile of contempt appeared on the Dark Lord's face. "Well, it would seem my business here is concluded."

He walked the short distance to the boat, and began the slow journey across the lake, before he completely disappeared in the darkness he called out;

"Feel free to join the Inferi guarding this place, once you're done dying." His laughter faded into the distance, and then, there was only silence.

After a few more minutes a tiny voice, trembling with pain, could be heard muttering; "Task is done, Kreacher may return." The faint pop of house elf disapparition was the last sound in the cave for a long, long time.

It seemed like only minutes ago that Regulus had finally drifted off to sleep, when he was startled awake by the sound of house elf apparation. The house elves knew not to disturb their masters at night, so it must be Kreacher, returning to share urgent news from the Dark Lord.

Regulus looked around the dimly lit room, unable to locate the elf at their usual apparation spot by the door. A quick scan of the room revealed a dark shape, lying still on the carpet in a corner.

Regulus lept off the bed and knelt at Kreacher's side, a hand gently touching his shoulder, in search for a sign of life. When the elf failed to respond to his touch, he carefully shook him.

"Kreacher, what happened to you?" The elf's lips parted, but no sound came, for a moment Regulus thought he would not get an answer, then Kreacher gathered strength, and said "Poison, master" in a voice so low and hoarse, he almost didn't catch it.

Regulus wasted no time, immediately sprinting down the stairs to the Blacks' potions chamber. Rummaging through the contents of the ingredients cabinet, he pulled out a bezoar, and praying that it would be enough, he ran back to his room.

He shoved the stone like object down Kreacher's throat, and waited. Nothing seemed to happen at first, making Regulus believe he had been too late, and feeling utterly distressed, he cursed vehemently. Not only did he want to know what Voldemort had been up to, but he was also fond of the elf, probably more than appropriate for a wizard to be of a house elf, but Kreacher had taken care of him since he was born, his parents often too occupied with family business and events to take care of a child.

A few minutes later a shudder went though the elf's body; all his muscles tensed for a second, and then relaxed, his breathing appearing to be more even. Though the bezoar itself was not strong enough to counter the poison, it seemed to have neutralized enough of it for the house elf's resilient body to take care of the rest.

The remainder of the night, Regulus spent in his chair with a blanket around him, wondering what could have happened after he left the clearing.

Break of dawn found Regulus drowsing in the chair, the blanket slowly slipping to the floor. The cold air of the old house woke him up. He stared groggily around him, wondering why he was sitting in his chair, before it all came back to him. His eyes drifted to the corner, where the elf was still sleeping. Sighing deeply he settled back in the chair. He desperately wanted answers, but the elf needed the rest more at the moment.

Three hours and several attempts at reading later, Regulus finally spotted movement from the corner. The elf gingerly removed the blanket Regulus had put over him, and sat up, rubbing his still sleepy eyes. He stiffened as he took in his surroundings, realizing he had spent a night in his Master's chamber. His eyes widened when he noticed Regulus, sitting in the chair, still in his pyjamas.

Before he could start apologize or, if he considered the transgression too severe, hurt himself, Regulus signalled the elf to be quiet and listen.

"You did the right thing, coming to me, Kreacher." He kept his voice low, lest his mother overhear and come investigate.

Kreacher was still weak, but after a glass of water had been summoned from the kitchen, he seemed strong enough to talk. "I need you to tell me everything that happened last night, after I left" Regulus said with a calm he did not really feel.

It was fortunate that neither Walburga nor Orion were early risers on the weekends, as it was almost eleven o'clock when the elf was done explaining. Regulus had to fight the urge to bang his head against the wall, he felt like he was trapped.

Voldemort could not know that Kreacher had survived, or he would kill him and, if the secret was sensitive enough, the elf would be joined in death by everyone he suspected might have heard of it, which would be everyone living at 12 Grimmauld place.

Kreacher's house elf status would not allow him to simply vanish, without Walburga's and Orion's permission, and if they found out that Voldemort wanted the elf dead, they would not hesitate to kill him.

The easiest answer would be for Regulus to kill him himself, but looking at Kreacher's familiar face he knew he could not do it. All he really could do was order Kreacher not to mention the occurrence to his mother, and hope that his mother's growing unease around others would continue to keep her from inviting house guests.

The solution wasn't nearly good enough to ease Regulus nervousness, but it would have to do. With that, he sent down the elf down to the kitchen, praying no one had noticed his absence.


	2. Chapter 2

Almost a week had passed before Regulus was summoned by the Dark Lord. At that point he almost didn't care what happened, as long as he didn't have to walk around with a sense of impending doom anymore. In one way or another, things would be settled tonight.

As he arrived at a grey nondescript house which served as tonight's meeting place, a small sigh of relief escaped him; many other black robed figures were moving around the building. If Voldemort were to kill him for knowing his secret, he probably wouldn't do so in front of the others.

That didn't mean he was completely out of the woods, he was not sure he could get away with outright lying to his Master, Occlumency notwithstanding. He silently prayed it wouldn't come to that as he entered a large room, where the Dark Lord resided in a throne-like chair.

The meeting followed the usual routine; Voldemort started it with a passionate speech about why the Mudbloods should be wiped out of existence and how the Purebloods would reign supreme once this was done.

It was nothing he hadn't said before, but judging from the enthusiasm from some of the other Death Eaters, it might as well have been, most of them clung to his every word, their expressions ecstatic. Regulus refrained from rolling his eyes; that certainly wouldn't help him blend in with the crowd.

Not that anyone was likely to recognise him with his mask and cloak, though the Dark Lord had an unfortunate habit of calling his followers by name that Regulus wasn't too happy about. He thought it rather defeated the purpose of wearing masks in the first place. As the speech was concluded Voldemort did, indeed, call upon them using their given name.

A few Death Eaters at a time went to him to rapport the progress being made in their various assignments, and receiving further instructions. As Death Eater by Death Eater was called upon by the Dark Lord to then silently leave the building, Regulus became more and more nervous.

The room was almost empty when he finally beckoned Regulus, who crossed the creaky hardwood floor in a brisk pace to kneel at his Masters feet "My Lord" He kissed the hem of Voldemorts dark robe, just as the others had.

"I was pleased by your elf's assistance" Voldemort said, almost casually.

Regulus blinked in surprise, it was uncommon for Voldemort to make small talk, especially about something as trivial as elves. The uneasiness escalated and he felt as if he had accidentally swallowed a whole herd of Hippogriffs, that were now trying to claw their way back out to freedom.

"I'm glad" he stated vaguely.

The Dark Lord eyed him intensely and Regulus quickly coated his mental barriers with memories of their last meeting, as well as the joy he had felt at pleasing the Lord when he first met him all those years ago. The moment passed and Voldemort leaned back in his chair again, reassured of Regulus devotion.

"Bellatrix told me you haven't spoken to your blood traitor brother for almost three years"

The sudden change of subject left Regulus somewhat confused, but he quickly composed himself.

"Yes, I do not want my reputation ruined by his unworthy presence"

Voldemort eyed him thoughtfully for a while, his expression unreadable.

"Is it possible to repair your relation?" The Dark Lord said it in a casual way, but his intense stare somehow belied this.

Regulus carefully weighed his options, he considered his relationship with Sirius as beyond all repair, but how to convey this without being exposed to the Cruciatus Curse?

"I could try, but I doubt the blood traitor will ever trust me again"

Voldemort frowned at this and Regulus tensed his muscles in case of an incoming curse. "That is unfortunate..." he seemed to reach a conclusion as to whether the disappointment was worthy of punishment, "Never mind, I will find information some other way"

With this the Dark Lord absent-mindedly waved him a dismissal and Regulus hurried out, seething with anger.

 _How dare he even ask that, as if I would ever spy on my own family – estranged or not!_

He apparated back to the house and continued his infuriated ranting there, pacing back and forth in his room.

This really was the last straw, Regulus was now certain he had made a foolish mistake by joining the Death Eaters, though there wasn´t all that much he could do about it; quitting was a sure way to get killed and refusal to participate in raids was bound to end the same way.

Suddenly he stopped pacing, an evil smirk slowly spreading across his face:

 _If it´s a spy Voldemort wants, then a spy he will get._

He quickly summoned quill and parchment and wrote down the location of a prison camp, along with information on guard duties and wards.

Dumbledore would probably distrust this first note, thinking it a trap, but the next one would probably be more trusted, once this one´s information was validated – at least if he kept the same signature.

He stroked the end of the quill against his cheek as he thought – an old habit of his, then chuckled in delight. Regulus was an old family name and meant Prince or Little King, but the star was also known as Cor Leonis which translated to heart of the lion – the name seemed fitting for so many reasons.

With a flourish he signed the letter "Lionheart" and sent their other house elf – Mitty – to the post office in Diagon Alley, it wouldn´t do to have their family owl recognised by the receiver.

He sat down at his desk to think of other important information he could relay to the Light side.

After only a couple of minutes his burning resolve gave way for cold uncertainty; this must have been his single-handedly most Gryffindor moment, and by that he didn't mean brave and valiant – rather foolish and reckless.

In the heat of the moment he had cast caution aside and without any thought of the consequences, should he be caught, betrayed the most evil and powerful wizard in Britain. He hid his face in his hands as cold terror gripped him and no further planning was done that night.

Three days later there was a summon from an irate Lord who in cold fury told them that the enemy had taken over one of the safe houses, freeing six important prisoners in the process. As a result all prisoners now would be double-checked for tracking spells.

Since all four of the Death Eaters who had been there in the fight had been captured or killed he took out his displeasure on some of the low ranking Death Eaters who didn't look contrite enough.

After the unfair punishment the Dark Lord's mood seemed to have been improved some, and one of his usual speeches ensued – ending with the announcement that a raid on Diagon Alley would serve as retaliation. The attack was planned to be executed in four days time at noon.

Back at Grimmauld, Regulus sat down by his desk, and started writing Lionheart's second note to Albus Dumbledore. It would be much safer to stop sending notes, but his conscience wouldn't let him back out now.

The days between the first note and the summon had been spent planning how to remain undiscovered. After jotting down the general details and a plea to not make it look like they had been tipped off, lest he be discovered, he sent Kreacher to post it the muggleborn way – since Hogwarts had a special way for the muggleborn parents to contact their children.

A few seconds compulsion of a muggleborn witch was all it had took for him to gain that information, and he was rather pleased with himself for it – there was no way to see exactly where the letter was posted from.

The day of the raid Regulus was extremely nervous; he had basically set himself up as a target for lethal curses, but it was too late to back out now. He donned his Death Eater robes and an old family heirloom – a ring that also worked as a powerful portkey, voice-activated and able to penetrate most anti-portkey wards.

He apparated to the gathering site and made sure he stood in the middle of the clung of Death Eaters joining the attack to have a human shield around him.

As soon as he appeared in the alley he cast a Bombarda at one of the shop windows, he followed up an Incendio at some barrels in a corner – refusing to cast anything at an innocent bystander, but unable to just stand around and watch.

Pops around him heralded the arrival of order members and Regulus started to inconspicuously sending stunning spells at unsuspecting Death Eaters, he was close enough for them to not notice from whom the spell was cast.

A short distance away he spotted his brother and Potter, fighting side by side and doing a fine job of it. Quelling a pang of jealousy that Potter had taken his place as Sirius' brother in all but name, he decided to portkey home before the deadly duo got him – it would be utterly ironic if his brother killed him now that he had actually switched sides.

The loud crack of Aurors appearing confirmed his decision as a good one. With the words "Toujours Pur" the alley disappeared and his father's study in Grimmauld place appeared. No one was there so Regulus unrobed and snuck into his room to calm down before the inevitable "You-failed-and-must-be-punished" summon. He shuddered at the thought – it was bound to be unpleasant.

He distracted his mind from conjuring up unwanted speculations by writing a list of everyone he knew was a Death Eater, along with people he suspected but hadn't yet confirmed.

As he read the list he noticed one name missing, he was sorely tempted to leave it out, as if that simple act would make it so. With a sigh he wrote "Regulus Black" high on the list of confirmed names – he could just imagine his brother's disappointment.

When the summon came minutes later, he gave the note to Kreacher, Voldemort was irrational when it came to punishments - more than one follower had been punished to death by their Master – but even if Regulus got killed today in a fit of rage, the truth would be known; most of it anyway.

He turned to leave but changed his mind at the last second "Kreacher", the elf popped into the room "Yes, young Master?" Regulus hesitated for a second, then softly said "If I die, I want Sirius to know I'm Lionheart, could you do that for me?"

Kreacher's eyes widened at the mention of Regulus dying, but he nodded somberly "Yes Master, Kreacher promise"

Feeling strangely reassured at the thought of his brother knowing that he had changed, that he wasn't a horrible person through and through, he left for the meeting.

It turned out he needn't have worried about getting killed that day, the Dark Lord was furious, oh yes – his rage was quite something to behold – but he blamed the lower ranks for the failure. It made absolutely no sense whatsoever, not that Regulus complained.

And so his little game continued; supplying Dumbledore with enough details to do a lot of damage without revealing so much that it was obvious there was a spy. Being a Slytherin to the core Regulus would have enjoyed it immensely, had the stakes not been so high.

Another definite mood dampener was the death of his father, Orion Black, that summer. Dragon Pox had taken him after some time's sickness, and though Regulus had never been close to the man, he still missed him.

Though Sirius had never been properly disowned, it was Regulus who got the dubious honour of managing the Black finances.

A very pleased Dark Lord summoned him the day the decision was made; to congratulate him of course. Though Regulus caught the not so hidden implication that now the Blacks could donate even more money the cause.

Back at home, there was a certain part of their conversation that was repeating itself in Regulus head over and over again. Voldemort had actually chuckled as he told him "Do you know your brother was hoping to be in charge of your family's' part of the Black fortune?", at Regulus polite shake of the head he continued with malicious glee "he was hoping to stop money from the Black vaults funding our side, apparently he wrecked his entire bedroom when he found out"

Regulus had forced his expression into a condescending smirk "As if we would ever let a blood traitor take charge of anything". The Dark Lord had jovially agreed.

It was quite obvious there was a spy among the light side; someone close enough to Sirius to know about his bedroom, the thought of the danger his brother unknowingly was in made him shudder. As soon as he had returned he had sat down and tried to figure out who the spy could be.

The answer was quite obvious, and he wrote a quick note from Lionheart, this one addressed to Sirius, he didn't care that breaking the pattern was risky – his brother needed to know immediately.

 _'There is a spy amongst you; he seems to know a lot about you Mr Black. Are you sure the wolf is tame?_

 _/Lionheart'_

Severus had told him all about Lupin's attack and Dumbledore's unfair treatment after it, Regulus had sympathised with his friend wholeheartedly; a dangerous half beast had no place in a school, or the world for that matter, in fact it would be better for all persons involved if they were all put down.

Despite their status as less than human, Voldemort had recruited many monsters for his army, and Lupin switching sides for sweet promises of better treatment and perhaps even a cure was not that hard to imagine.

* * *

Only a couple of weeks later Voldemort summoned his followers, furious. They were called upon one by one to chat with their Master behind a silencing charm.

When it was his turn, the Dark Lord didn't even greet him "It has come to my attention that there is a spy in my ranks" Regulus fought down the panic; it seemed like today would be the ultimate test on his occlumency shields.

"Any idea whom it is my Lord?" he kept his voice even, with a trace of anger suitable for a loyal Death Eater to have at the thought of betrayal. He let pictures of other followers flicker through his mind.

"Apparently some fool who calls himself Lionheart"

Regulus sneered "What a horrible name, could it be a former Gryffindor, my Lord?"

"We shall see, look into my eyes"

Regulus mentally cursed, but did as he was told. He conjured up as many safe memories as possible and coated them all with thoughts that could be related to the search of Lionheart. The mental probing he was used to during their meetings were nothing compared to this; it was only with unsuperseded willpower he didn't flinch or turn away his gaze.

It only took about twenty seconds before Voldemort withdrew again – Regulus was probably more routine than suspect. "We are done" was all the Dark Lord said.

He feigned calm as he walked across the room to the apparition spot and returned home.

He managed to get to the bathroom before getting violently ill. When he was done throwing up he just lay there on the cold floor, shivering, for hours.

The game was getting too dangerous and it was time to stop before it became the death of him.

Had he given any clue to who he was in his notes? No, not really.

Could any of the other Death Eaters give him away? Possibly; on three different raids he had stunned other followers – he had been discreet about it, but all it took was for one of the others to notice something odd.

It seemed like it was time for Regulus' plan B – the one he had thought very extreme when he came up with it; fortunately he had already laid the groundwork – after all, faking one's own death was a tricky business.

He had already withdrawn most of the gold in his bank vault, which he had then exchanged to muggle money and stashed in his old school trunk along with some personal effects that wouldn't be missed.

He was all set to go, but he had one final blow to deal to his former Master – from the shadows of course.


	3. Chapter 3

He called on Kreacher and apparated to the house of one of Voldemort's followers, a nasty man called Dixon.

Two knocks on the door later the man opened, frowning at the sight of his visitor.

"Whaddyawant?" Greasy brown bangs hung down over Dixon's face and the accompanying smell of old alcohol on his breath made Regulus shudder with distaste.

"I have come on the behalf of our Master" he calmly stated.

The man took a closer look at him and his face lit up with recognition "Come in", he said as he turned around and walked back inside.

Regulus rolled his eyes at the man's back - how easy he had dropped his guard. A quick Imperio later, and they were both apparated to Voldemort's dark cavern by Kreacher. Only the most complicated wards could keep a House Elf out and the Dark Lord had seemingly completely disregarded them as a threat.

He was standing by the stone pedestal on the isle in the middle of the inferi lake, Dixon, with eyes slightly dazed from the curse by his side. Regulus ordered him to drink, and he did it without hesitation. He had chosen this man because of his despicable actions during the last raid, Regulus didn't think he would ever forget the teenage girl's screams.

With the man helpless and under his command the drinking was soon over with and Regulus ordered the man to stand still while he removed the locket from the basin.

After Kreacher's description Regulus had guessed that the jewellry in question was in fact Slytherin's locket - and old heirloom that went missing a long time ago - or a replica thereof. Being from a family of proud Slytherins, Regulus had actually got a replica of his own for his tenth birthday.

He placed the fake locket in the hole, which immediately began to fill once more, covering the jewellery with the message that Lionheart was the one responsible for its disappearance - he hadn't been able to refrain from a little taunting.

He glanced around the dark cave before ordering the elf to take them straight to his room, it was time for part two of his plan.

It became obvious that the second part of the plan would have to be hurried more than he would have liked; Dixon was shaking and sweating, and it seemed like he wouldn't last much longer.

Regulus fetched two vials of Polyjuice potion from his desk drawer and completed them with a hair each from them. He shuddered at the thought of imbibing anything containing bits of that man – _the things I do for the greater good_ , he thought sarcastically as he drank it.

When they had finished transforming they switched clothes, exited the house and apparated to Diagon Alley, where they stood hidden in a dark corner outside a small diner.

"Walk ahead of me," Regulus instructed the now shaking man "when we have almost reached Gringott's you turn around, you will then point your wand at me and scream "Traitor" while you cast a Bombarda to the right side of me"

Dixon nodded dully, it was now approximately fifteen minutes since he had drank the potion and he looked ready to collapse at any moment.

The plan worked exactly as it should and as Regulus dodged the incoming spell, he sent a flurry of nasty spells in retaliation; Bone-Breaking Curses, Cutting Curses and a few Incendio's – enough to ensure a closed coffin.

He found it strangely cathartic to aim curses at his own face. Pretending it was the old version of himself – the one loyal to Voldemort – that was blasted to hell, he probably overdid it a bit, stopping only when the first pops of Auror apparition could be heard.

Activating the portkey he returned to the old Black house. He didn't really have to worry about being discovered; since his father's death his mother had withdrawn entirely from the world, seldom leaving the bedchamber. The official explanation was greif, though Regulus suspected the infamous Black insanity now had her firmly in its grip.

That was the main reason for him hiding someplace else without her knowing he was alive; he simply couldn't be sure she wouldn't name him a blood traitor and turn him over to the Dark Lord.

With a sad shake of his head he sat down in his desk chair and proofread his last letter to Dumbledore. All the information he had previously excluded for fear of his discovery were now included, several pages of it. At the bottom of the page was a note for the old Headmaster:

 _Since the Dark Lord has begun searching his ranks for the spy Lionheart you must have shared your information with someone untrustworthy. There is no way I could stay hidden for long and so, now I must flee. There will be no more information from me._

 _If you are ever lucky enough to get another spy, you better keep it to yourself_

 _Lionheart._

Everything seemed to be in order, no details left out or unclear. He handed the note to Kreacher "I have one final task for you before you must pretend I'm dead. You will apparate me with you, to wherever in London you intend to send this letter from, you will then stay away from me unless I contact you". The elf nodded, looking unhappy.

Regulus quickly changed into muggle clothes and ten minutes later they stood on the pavement in the outskirts of London with a trunk full of money but little else. Not having planned further than this he nodded farewell to Kreacher, picked a direction and started walking.

* * *

The following weeks went by painfully slow, Regulus had rented a small flat in which he had holed himself up, unwilling to venture out in the muggle world – not like they could have anything worthwhile to do anyway, what with lacking magic.

His daily routine of eating, reading and sleeping was soon frightfully boring, but he was stubborn - it wasn't until he ran out of food that he gave up and exited his dull refuge.

Buying groceries was a small adventure in itself, up and down the aisles he walked, the other shoppers giving him odd looks as he could be heard muttering

"recognize this"

"think I recognize that"

Each item went into his eclectic pile of food. "Pretty sure this usually comes sliced" he sniffed suspiciously at the mysterious item, then shrugged and added it to the rest. He exited the store with several bags of groceries- discreetly Feather-light Charmed of course.

He had never cooked a meal himself before - he didn't know who would've had the biggest meltdown if he tried; his mother or the house elfs. But he didn't think it could be all that different from potions, which he was quite adept at.

After a dinner of overcooked meat, next to cremated chickpeas, pineapple and some kind of disgusting sauce the muggles called Ketchup his taste buds begged to differ and he resignedly ventured out in the city once more, this time in search of cook books with which's help he managed to cook an edible meal.

After these first reluctant trips he went outside more and more often, he didn't want to befriend any muggles but the solitude was definitely getting to him. Three months later he Imperioed a random stranger on a deserted street and in a dark alley he cut a large quantity of the man's hair.

His last dose of Polyjuice potion was imbibed soon after and Regulus visited Diagon Alley, relishing the feeling of familiarity and belonging. He bought a large supply of ingredients for more potions and after that became a regular visitor in the Alley. It wasn't exactly what he had planned but hey, there was only so much muggles one could stand without going spare.

He had thought about moving back into wizarding society under his new alias, Onyxius Stone, but decided that waiting the war out in continued exile was the safer option. And so on November 1 1981, almost two years after his disappearance he entered the Leaky Cauldron to an unusual sight. Where customers had become more and more scarce as the war raged on the pub was now packed with people laughing and cheering.

"Mr Stone, have you heard the news?" the barkeeper Tom shouted as he made his way towards him. Regulus shook his head, his eyes widening in surprise as the man _hugged_ him. "The war is over; You-Know-Who is dead". He said, voice trembling with happiness. Regulus discomfort at the close proximity vanished in the shock over those words, "How?" he managed to get out, eloquence temporarily beyond him.

The other customers were getting impatient for the next round of drinks and Tom gave Regulus an apologising look as he passed him a copy of the Daily Prophet from a nearby table. "Everything I know is in here" he said before returning to the bar.

Regulus stared dumbfounded at the first page of the newspaper. He looked around him, half expecting the people to laugh at him and yell "Got you!", but no. His stare returned to the headline;

 **You-Know-Who defeated by Potter Baby!**

A quick scan through the article revealed a lot of speculation and very little substantial facts, but it seemed like his former Master had gone after Lily and James Potter last night and, after finishing them off decided to destroy the last of the Potter line by killing their baby too. But something had gone wrong and Harry had been found alive and well except for a scar on his forehead. The Dark Lord's empty robes and wand had been found on the floor next to the crib.

Regulus swallowed hard, _this was preposterous!_ He ordered a glass of Firewhisky and sat down in a somewhat quiet corner of the room, observing the other clients and listening in on their conversations. By the end of the day there seemed to be no doubt about it – the article was telling the truth and the capturing of Death Eaters had begun; it looked like the Wizengamot would be busy for quite some time.

He walked back to his flat with a lightness in his steps that hadn't been there since his days at Hogwarts.

* * *

However his good mood was short lived, in fact it disappeared completely the next day as he read the headline of the same newspaper that had made him so happy the day before.

 **Sirius Black murders thirteen – sentenced to lifetime in Azkaban**

It was fortunate that Regulus stood by a chair when he received the news as his knees buckled from the shock. For a moment all he could do was sit there and stare blankly at the picture of his brother laughing madly. He opened the paper and read the rest of the article.

Five minutes later he put it down again, more baffled than before. _Sirius? Murder his friend Peter and a bunch of muggles in a rage over Voldemorts defeat? It's not possible!_ The idea itself was ludicrous, yet Sirius was going to Azkaban for it and since "The evidence was overwhelming" it looked like he wouldn't even get a trial.

Regulus gritted his teeth and forced himself not to rip the offending article to pieces. Instead he neatly folded it and put it on the table before he summoned Kreacher.

The elf showed up swiftly, as if it hadn't been two years since last they met. "Master Regulus called, sir?" Though his facial expression was carefully blank the joy in Kreacher's voice was palpable.

"What do you know of my brother's arrest, Kreacher?"

The elf thought for a while before answering "Papers say young Master Sirius killed bloodtraitor Pettigrew and filthy muggles, Mistress is very happy about this" he said at last, sounding a bit unsure.

Regulus sighed "We both know that's not true, Sirius would never betray his idiot Gryffindor friends"

Kreacher seemed to relax a little at this and nodded"Kreacher thought it very unlikely, but dared not tell the Mistress" he gave Regulus a careful glance "Should Kreacher punish himself?"

Regulus gazed off into the distance trying to make sense of what had happened, before realising the elf was waiting for an answer. He shook his head slightly in an effort to regain his bearings "No Kreacher, it's quite alright" the elf smiled and bowed, but Regulus didn't notice, his mind once again returning to the task of figuring out where it all had gone wrong.

"A simple mistake would have already been cleared up, he must have been set up somehow" he muttered darkly to himself. He paced back and forth in his small living room, lost in thoughts for almost an hour, Kreacher forgotten but patiently waiting in a corner of the room.

"Kreacher, I need you to find out as much as you can about this – discreetly" the elf looked delighted at being entrusted with an important task and nodded eagerly.

In his musings Regulus had found two likely candidates for the betrayal of his brother. At first he had been sure it was the werewolf; and if that was the case Regulus swore the half-beast would die screaming, a thousand silver needles puncturing his flesh before he would be allowed the mercy of death.

But the more he thought about it, the more he wondered where Pettigrew fit into the picture. At first the idea that the pudgy boy who'd worshipped his brother and Potter through their Hogwarts years had ended up betraying them seemed ridiculous, but the more he'd thought about it, the more he considered it a possibility. They were both close enough to Sirius that they could have reported his brother's fury over the Black funds back to the Dark Lord.

"I want you to focus your investigation on Pettigrew and Lupin, if there is any indication that they were in the Dark Lord's service I want to know."

With that he dismissed the elf and resumed his pacing, the knowledge of his brother's imprisonment in Azkaban weighing heavy on his mind.

It was almost midnight when the elf reappeared. "There was no signs of either man being in the service of the Dark Lord" he started and Regulus let out a disappointed sigh though he had known the possibility of finding incriminating information at their homes was rather small.

"Then Kreacher searched the place where he was exploded" The elf continued, looking so pleased with himself that Regulus could feel his hopes rise again. "There was a lot of blood there, they had tried to clean it away, but they were not as good at it as Kreacher is – traces could be found easily" He nodded to himself with a smug grin.

"How is this relevant?" Regulus asked impatiently. The elf's grin widened "There was barely any magical blood at all, almost all of it was filthy muggle blood" By now he was so pleased he had started rocking back and forth on his heels.

Regulus frowned "You can tell the difference between muggle and magical blood?" he asked with slight disbelief. "Oh yes" Kreacher nodded seriously "The house elfs of the Ancient and most Noble House of Black has known how to for centuries – we have had lots of practise. The proud tone in the elf's voice made Regulus suppress his urge to laugh – though the fact that his family's history was so dark its servants had learnt to tell different kinds of blood apart was still highly amusing to him.

"So Peter Pettigrew may still be alive?" He mused out loud.

"Kreacher can not tell young Master that, but he knows that the halfblood boy did not die in that alley" Regulus nodded absentmindedly before sending the elf back to Grimmauld Place to avoid his mother noticing the elf's disappearance disappearance.

Alone once more he collapsed in the chair by his desk, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose while trying to figure out the right course of action. An hour later he had finally made up his mind and fetched parchment and quill, writing Dumbledore a note from Lionheart about his suspicions, urging the man to get Sirius a fair trial. He deposited the note from a nearby postbox, sighing as he was done – now all he could do was wait, and oh, how he hated waiting.

* * *

As the days went by without a word of a trial for Sirius Regulus mood soured – a conversation with Kreacher revealed that the Black family would do nothing to help his brother and there was nothing he himself publicly could do – he would end up in a cell next to his brother if he tried.

His original plan had been to tell Dumbledore (Who everybody knew practically ran the ministry) that he was Lionheart and ask for his protection so that he could return from his exile. This no longer seemed possible since the man didn't even care about his brother – who had been on his side from the beginning – enough to give him the benefit of a doubt, Regulus resigned himself to stay Onyxius Stone, at least for the time being.

When a week had passed he decided to help his brother the only way could; by catching Peter Pettigrew. He started frequenting the shady bars of Knockturn Alley, buying drinks to its even shadier clientele while subtly probing for information. An old hag confirmed his suspicions about Pettigrew by telling how she had seen him a few times with people Regulus knew were marked, but he had no luck at all with locating the traitorous bastard.

As time passed he started to lose hope of ever finding Pettigrew and his thoughts more and more often drifted towards other means of freeing his brother. But breaking into Azkaban was impossible so he continued his search for information – though by now it was more out of stubbornness and a general lack of better things to do than actual hope of finding something important.

And so, a rainy summer night three and a half years later, he finally heard something interesting. Since his mother had died a couple of months ago he had visited the pubs almost every night, trying to drown his feelings of helplessness concerning his family in alcohol.

This night was no different, he had entered the dark bar almost an hour ago and was sitting in his favourite secluded corner. He was nursing his third glass of Firewhisky, staring absentmindedly at the dilapidated table and trying to ignore the guilt of abandoning his family, when the creaky door opened and a small group of people Regulus hadn't seen gathered since his days as a Death Eater entered.

They had all been low ranking members who had somehow managed to escape imprisonment, but other than that he couldn't find anything that linked them. They sat down in a secluded corner of the room and his interest was further piqued when they used a silencing spell after getting their drinks.

He went to the restroom where he disillusioned himself before carefully making his way towards the group. He prayed they would be as stupid as he thought they were as he neared the silenced area. As he passed through the spell without triggering any intrusion alarms his opinion of them was confirmed and he smirked to himself – clearly the idea that someone might be eavesdropping from within had never crossed their minds.

He crouched behind a table and made himself as comfortable as one could on the drafty floor of a damp pub and started listening.

"...sure the old fool's got that place warded, no way we can ever get the brat without getting caught" The speaker was a young witch in tattered robes who scowled towards a middle aged man with well washed blond hair and a robe in a frankly alarming shade of purple.

Regulus recognised him - they had gone to Hogwarts together. He didn't know his name as he had been a few years above him ut if memory served him right he had been in Hufflepuff, something the man had probably used to his advantage when in trial. The notion that Hufflepuff virtues were incorruptible by the Dark Lord was as naive as it was dangerous – who knew how many Death Eaters had escaped imprisonment because of House prejudices?

"How can you even be sure where he is?" the witch continued "I've a contact at the ministry who's been checking every record there is about the boy, but there's nothing about his home situation"

The former Hufflepuff smiled, clearly satisfied by his accomplishment. "It was no secret that Lily Potter had a muggle sister she didn't like; I merely had to track her down." His smile broadened "The neighbours were only too happy about telling me about their "good-for-nothing" nephew"

The witch's mouth opened and closed several times, she was clearly too shocked to speak. "You mean that the boy-who-lived has been living with MUGGLES?" she finally got out, her voice reaching a high pitch at the end of the sentence.

Regulus couldn't agree more – he had never liked James Potter (which had absolutely nothing to do with feeling replaced by him – or at least that was what he liked to tell himself) but there was no denying he had been an exceptional wizard. It was a pity he had married that mudblood, but as mudbloods went Lily Evans wasn't that bad. That Harry Potter – the child of two of the smartest people in their year at Hogwarts and Godson of his brother stayed in such poor company was unacceptable!

The blond man nodded, looking extremely smug "Yes, all we have to do is wait for him to go outside the property, then we snatch him – it's not as if the muggles could put up a fight" he laughed and the witch soon joined in.

"Okay" she said when she had managed to calm down. "What do we do with him once we got him?"

The man's smile turned vicious "We hand him over to our superiors and once they find a way to bring back the Dark Lord we take our rightful place in his inner circle".

The witch nodded, eagerness and greed shining out of her eyes "I'll toast to that" she said and raised her glass.

Regulus knees and back were hurting now, crouched on the floor as he was to remain undetected. But he stayed still, hoping for more information.

His patience paid off as they soon started talking again, one of the men he didn't recognize deciding to join the conversation. "So when do we do this?" he muttered, letting out a burp as he placed the glass back at the table with a bang.

"Malfoy said he would have a hiding place ready by the end of the week" the Hufflepuff had lowered his voice so Regulus had to strain his hearing to catch everything.

The witch, who had just taken a big gulp of her butterbeer started coughing at this revelation and it took almost a minute before she managed to stop, one of the hooded figures helpfully pounding her back.

When she had regained her bearings she once again glared at the purple robed man, eyes watering but still radiating displeasure. "You told that conceited bastard?" she hissed out "He's pleaded Imperio – denied our Lord"

The man didn't waver "He could do more for our Lord free than imprisoned" he answered, voice flat. "And there is no way we could hide that child alone, let alone finding a way to bring the Dark Lord back"

The witch considered this for a while before slowly nodding. "So, end of the week then?"

"Yes, though we should probably scout the area a few days before; learn their routines".

"And what area would that be?" she asked.

"Privet Drive 4, Little Whinging, Surrey"

Regulus mentally cheered at their stupidity, memorizing the address.

Little else of importance was said and after twenty minutes of gossip "Oh yes, the Minister's robes were absolutely _Horrible!_ " Regulus felt he had to bid farewell either to the pub or his sanity, and so carefully headed outside where he apparated home.


	4. Chapter 4

True to his habits Regulus started pacing back and forth, trying to figure out the right course of action. He could of course tell Dumbledore of his findings and have the man relocate the boy, but where would the old fool place him next? – an orphanage?

Regulus seethed when he thought of Harry growing up with muggles, instead of taking his rightful place in the wizarding world.

 _If only Sirius had been free._

But he wasn't – he was still in Azkaban because his brother had failed to get him out. He let out a furious growl and kicked a nearby chair into the wall so hard it broke.

Regulus knew exactly what his brother would have done; he would have made sure his Godson was safe – no matter what.

 _Well, since I haven't managed to get Sirius free so he can take care of him, I'll just have to take care of him myself!_

The thought of taking care of a child wasn't as off putting as it once would've been, perhaps because he didn't have very much else to do with his time, or perhaps because of the relief of actually being able to help for once.

Invigorated by this new purpose in life he started planning the liberation.

* * *

It was a sunny day – in fact the weather was almost utopian – neither to warm nor to cold. A gentle breeze played with Harry Potter's untameable hair. He was kneeling in the playground, building a beautiful sandcastle with countless towers and spires (granted, since he was only five years old countless weren't all that many).

At the sound of his name he looked up and smiled at his Aunt Petunia, who beckoned him to the picnic blanket where loads of delicious foods were waiting for the hungry boy.

"That is a very nice castle Harry" she said, smiling "but you must be hungry, please come eat some biscuits – I baked them especially for you"

Behind her Uncle Vernon grabbed the plate of chocolate biscuits, just before his cousin Dudley lay his hands on it. "Save some for Harry, boy – they're his favourite!"

Dudley muttered disappointedly, but had no choice but to obey his father.

Harry happily joined them on the blue blanket in the middle of a sea of grass.

Just as Harry took a bite of the delicious biscuit his Aunt let out a terrified gasp, staring at something behind him. He turned around and saw an odd looking man in a blue dress standing there.

He thought he might have seen this man before – just a couple of days ago in the grocery store, a man who resembled this one a lot had thanked Harry profusely for something, before walking off without explanation.

His Aunt and Uncle had been wary of the man then, but it was nothing in comparison to how they were acting now; both trembling but otherwise frozen with fear.

Aunt Petunia begged Dudley and Harry for help with the scary man, but Dudley ran away screaming – it was all up to Harry. He steadied himself and took a deep breath before stepping forward, shoving the man hard as he yelled "Go away, and leave my family alone; you´re a bad man!"

The strange man was surprised that Harry wasn't scared of him and took a step backwards; Harry followed him, feeling strong and determined. Then the man got scared of him and ran away, the weird blue robe flapping about his legs like an overgrown butterfly.

As soon as the man was gone his Aunt almost collapsed on the ground, crying tears of relief and thanking him for saving them. Uncle Vernon grabbed Dudley by the ear as he hesitantly returned from his hiding place. "You didn't save us from the scary man, you have been very bad and won't have any dinner tonight" his Uncle said sternly.

Dudley looked very sad at this, but he wasn't as brave and strong as Harry so he couldn't help but to run away.

Aunt Petunia hugged Harry very close and thanked him over and over "You are very brave Harry, you are much better than Dudley and I love you so much!"

Harry was filled with an almost euphoric happiness at these words, his Uncle lifted him up and carried him to the car. He could hear his Aunt calling his name from somewhere to the right, she didn't sound at all happy anymore and Harry twisted in his Uncles arms; trying to locate her to see what was wrong.

But there was no one there, his Aunts voice called his name again, and this time she sounded distinctly unhappy.

The ground started shaking and Harry opened his eyes to face the dim light in his cupboard. "You worthless boy, get up at once!"

His feelings of happiness were violently swept away by waves of disappointment, but he managed to rasp out an answer to his Aunt.

He heard her move towards the kitchen as he stiffly sat up and put on his battered glasses. Gingerly he slipped off the hard cot that was his bed, not entirely recuperated from the spanking he had received when the mysterious old man had talked to him the other day.

Harry didn't really know what he had done wrong, but when he had said as much his already furious Uncle got even angrier, bellowing that "Freaks who couldn't even be brought to the store without causing a scene deserved no dinner".

After that Harry had accepted his punishment as quietly as he could.

He put on some of Dudley's old clothes before hurrying to the kitchen, where Aunt Petunia ordered him to mind the bacon while she awoke Dudley. He did so, used by now to lend a hand in all the house work. While the Dursley's had breakfast he waited in his cupboard – he was not supposed to eat at the same time as the others; meals were family time and Harry knew he wasn't a part of the family.

An hour later his Aunt opened the door again and thrust two pieces of toast in his hands while announcing that they were going to the pool for the day. While they were gone Harry would weed the garden.

Weeding was Harry's favourite chore; since it was outdoors it meant that he had a good chance of avoiding his Uncle and Cousin who both preferred to stay indoors.

He went out and started pulling the weeds and putting them in a bucket. He quickly found his rhythm, losing himself in the work.

The sun was high in the sky when he was done with the flower beds on the front of the house, his exposed arms and neck had started stinging slightly from sunburn and he was drenched in sweat, but he didn't dare take a break just yet. If he wasn't done by the time his relatives came home he would likely miss dinner again, and he was getting really tired of toast.

Finally having made enough progress to warrant a rest he stood up, wiped the sweat of his brow and stretched his back. That's when he noticed a man standing a few meters away, watching him with an unreadable expression.

* * *

Regulus had soon come to the realization that 12 Grimmauld place – the old Black town house would be the best place to hide away the child. Not only would no one ever look for him there since it was believed to be vacant, but it was also heavily warded, and as soon as he had mastered the Fidelius charm it would be next to impenetrable.

The rest of the night he spent there with Kreacher, trying to make the place suitable for the kid. The elf cleaning up the place while Regulus removed dangerous objects; there were quite a few. It was early in the morning before he stumbled of to bed, exhausted yet feeling more alive than in years.

He awoke only a couple of hours later and after a quick change of clothes he Apparated to Privet Drive, he was careful not to get too close to the property, unsure of what kind of wards were used.

There was no car in the driveway, something his time in the muggle world had taught him indicated to no one being at home. He cursed his bad luck – he really needed to get the boy out of there as soon as possible.

He casted a few detecting charms to see if there were any harmful wards in place, frowning when he found none; the place was either without protection or using such obscure magic his spells couldn't register them, he was hesitant about finding out.

Deciding to wait for them to return he walked around the house, finding a place a little more secluded from prying eyes.

A movement in the corner of his eye made him freeze, something was hiding in the bushes closest to the house. Could the Death Eaters have arrived before him?

His wand was already in his hand and he prepared himself for battle, planning to curse first and ask questions later, but had to stop himself when a small child came crawling out, dragging a bucket filled with weeds after him. His arms and neck were an angry shade of red, and his face was only a little better. He was very thin and dressed in clothes that would have fitted a kid five times his size.

The boy looked strangely familiar. Regulus was strongly reminded of James Potter the first time they had met - at some pureblood gathering Regulus' parents had deemed appropriate to attend.

He lowered his wand and watched as the kid struggled on.

 _So, this is Harry Potter? I wonder what mischief he's been up to to deserve this?_

No matter what he had done, the punishment seemed a bit too harsh to Regulus, who was just about to announce his presence when the boy stood up and caught sight of him.

* * *

The man was young and dressed in a black shirt and trousers, his strawberry blond hair tied back in a ponytail, keeping it out of his light blue eyes. Harry didn't know if he should be afraid of the man or not, but he didn't look like the kind of man Aunt Petunia had warned Dudley about.

The seconds passed as they stood there, watching each other. Harry grew very uncomfortable under the scrutiny and even though he wasn't supposed to speak unless spoken to he decided to break the silence.

"Uhm...Hi" He looked down at his feet afraid the man would yell at him for opening his mouth, but the man answered in a calm tone.

"Hello child, are you by any chance Harry Potter?"

Harry suddenly remembered how his Uncle had threatened to send him off to an orphanage earlier that day. He felt a surge of panic as he thought of how horrible his Aunt had told him that would be.

He took a step backwards as he answered "Yes sir, but please don't take me away – I promise I'll be good!" His voice trembled at the end of the sentence and he had to blink back tears.

The man looked very surprised at Harry's plea and he realized he had been very impolite, asking the stranger for favours; he was probably going to receive a spanking.

He winced as he thought of his already sore backside, but the man seemed to let it slide, his tone more curious than angry "What do you mean?"

Harry wasn't sure he'd be lucky enough to get away with asking twice, but was terrified enough of the orphanage to risk it "I'm sorry, sir, just...please don't take me to the orphanage"

The man frowned, making Harry take another step back "I'm not here to take you to an orphanage, Harry"

Harry let out a small sigh of relief, his body relaxing as he smiled shyly at the man, unsure of what to do now.

* * *

Regulus was confused, his plan had been to take the boy away from the unsuitable home. That the boy wouldn't want to leave his muggle relatives hadn't crossed his mind and now he cursed his stupidity; of course he would rather stay with his family than follow some random stranger.

This conclusion seemed right until about five seconds later, when the boy begged him not to take him to an orphanage.

Starting to feel a bit uncertain about the whole enterprise he decided to change the subject.

"Do you know how I knew you're Harry Potter?"

The boy shook his head, staring at the ground to avoid eye contact.

"I am the brother of your Godfather"

Harry gave him a blank look, but clearly wasn't very comfortable asking questions. Regulus sighed "Do you know what a Godfather is?"

Again the boy shook his head negative, this time looking a bit sheepish.

It's the person who's supposed to take care of you if something happens to your parents."

The boy stayed quiet for a while, processing the information. Then he looked up at Regulus, something akin to hope shining in his eyes. "Are you here to take me to him, does he want me?" he asked, voice almost a whisper.

Regulus was completely thrown by the sudden question - how he wished it could have been. He knew there was nothing in the world that would stop Sirius from taking care of this boy, if only he hadn't failed. He mentally reprimanded himself for wallowing in could-have-beens "No" he answered in a clipped tone.

The boy's face fell and he nodded sadly "Okay" his voice was resigned and Regulus belatedly realized there had in fact been two questions. "It's not that he doesn't want you," he hurriedly explained "but he is..." he wracked his brain trying to come up with a suitable explanation, "unable to take care of you at the moment." He finished rather lamely.

At the somewhat frantic assurance that he wasn't totally unwanted Harry seemed happier, a small smile graced his tired face. Regulus congratulated himself on this small success and was about to ask some questions about the boy in hopes of getting him to open up, when the boy in question took a stumbling step, his eyes unfocused before collapsing the ground.

"Harry?" When the boy remained still he cast a suspicious glance around the garden before warily entering. Whatever wards were placed here - if there indeed were any - didn't recognize him as a threat, just as he had hoped.

He kneeled on the ground beside the small frame of the so called Boy-Who-Lived, gently shaking him "Harry?" he tried again. This time his effort elicited a groan.

Regulus sighed in relief before he carefully picked up the boy and carried him inside, where he placed him on the sofa.

The house was in poor taste according to Regulus, everything was very new – no sign of family heirlooms anywhere, though he doubted the muggles had any heritage to be proud of anyway. The furnishing was of the mass produced kind, and on his way to the kitchen he encountered no less than four framed pictures of what at first glance seemed to be a pink blob, but after closer examination turned out to be an unpleasant looking boy.

He fetched a pitcher of water and hurried back to the boy, suspecting the five year old was merely dehydrated.

The boy had not moved or opened his eyes at his return so Regulus sat down beside him, pulling the boy up next to him before holding the glass of water to his lips. Harry greedily swallowed the offered drink, emptying the whole glass in one go. A few seconds later he opened his eyes "What happened?" he asked, voice wavering with fatigue.

However before Regulus could answer, Harry's eyes widened in surprise and he started to edge of the sofa, whispering "I shouldn't be here".

Silently wondering if the boy would ever stop confusing him he asked "What do you mean?"

Harry paused for a second, giving him a look as if he were the confusing one "Freaks aren't allowed on the sofa" he stated matter-of-factly as he stood. He shivered and had to grab the table to stay upright.

Frowning, Regulus once again scooped him up in his arms "Harry, you are not a freak". He paused and studied the clearly exhausted child "Nevertheless it may be better for you to rest in your bed while we speak."

* * *

Harry couldn't remember being held like that ever, it had him worried at first, but once he felt sure it wasn't a part of a punishment he relaxed, relishing in the feeling of closeness.

He pointed the man in the direction of his bed and used the motion to inconspicuously snuggle a little closer, the man smelled very nice – a mix of herbs and old books. The walk to the cupboard was over too soon in Harry's opinion.

They had stopped but the man didn't seem inclined to drop him yet, Harry ventured a quick look at the man's face and saw confusion written on the friendly features. He nodded affirmatively at the man's questioning glance, and he opened the cupboard door.

Harry had expected the man to put him down. When several seconds had passed without movement he looked up again. The man was staring at the worn cot on the dusty floor, at the few broken toys he had managed to salvage before his Aunt threw them away and the pile of Dudley's old clothes neatly folded - Harry was very careful with the few possessions he had- with disbelief.

"This...is your room?"

He nodded and pointed proudly at the sign on the door, where Harry with the help of Mrs Figg, who sometimes minded him, had written _"Harry's Room"_ with bright cheerful letters.

The man didn't seem very pleased at the sign, in fact he was scowling at it. Harry felt sure he had done something wrong – perhaps freaks weren't supposed to have rooms at all? "I'm sorry" he started whispering but stopped when the grip around him tightened, the reassuring firm grip now nearing painful.

"Those dirty, filthy, vile..." the man growled "should have been Avada'd at birth..." As his furious tirade continued, his grip tightened further and Harry couldn't help but wince.

The grip immediately relaxed "I'm sorry Harry" though the man's voice shook with barely withheld anger he seemed to be more in control. "Well I guess it's back to the sofa for now" he continued. They turned around and Regulus carefully placed him on the soft couch before sitting down next to him.

They sat there in silence for a while; the man watching Harry who was staring at his hands, not daring to meet his gaze – his uncle had once slapped him for 'Watching him with those unnatural, freaky eyes.'

* * *

The silence stretched on as Regulus tried to figure out a way to break the news to the boy. He finally decided to just come out and say it "You can't stay here Harry"

The boy stopped fidgeting with one of the pillows "Why not?" he said, his voice unsure.

Regulus hesitated "...They don't treat you right, and because" he paused, trying to find the right words "some bad people are looking for you". Perhaps it hadn't been the smartest thing to mention that last part to a child, but Regulus had always hated it when grownups censored things from him when he was younger.

Just as Harry opened his mouth, undoubtedly to ask questions, a car pulled up in the driveway; the Dursley's had returned home.

"I want you to come live with me" he hurriedly said "I will treat you better and keep you safe"

He had wanted to take his time explaining these things to Harry rather than blurt them out in a hurry, but he could hear the front door opening and was glad he had had the time to say it at all.

The boy looked shocked but refrained from asking questions, instead trying to inch of the couch discreetly until Regulus told him to stay where he were.

Regulus stood up and waited, he could hear the boy's muggle relatives chatting away about what a lovely day they had had. The boy retreated to his room upstairs soon after. He had a hard time not to rush out there and curse them all to oblivion, but soon enough the Aunt and Uncle entered the living room.

The horse faced woman was the first to notice him, she gasped in horror and grabbed hold of a large man with a large mustache and a skin tone rapidly shifting towards radish. The man opened his mouth – probably to yell at him, but Regulus cut him off "Vernon and Petunia Dursley I assume?"

The woman shrank back leaving her husband to answer "I don't know who you are or why you're here," he growled "but you are trespassing and will leave immediately!"

Regulus answer to this outburst was the disdainful smirk he had forced Severus to teach him many years ago. That and a powerful stinging hex proved a very efficient way to shut the man up.

"I am an acquaintance of the Potters" he said, forcing his voice to be calm "I came to check up on young Harry here, make sure he was treated with the kindness and respect he deserves." He paused for effect, staring straight at Petunia who went deathly pale. He gave her a slow smile that didn't reach his eyes and continued, his voice now silky. "Imagine my surprise..."

He was so angry that for the first time in oh so many years, he had trouble controlling his magic. The air seemed to almost crackle with energy, and his fury could be sensed by them all.

"Y-you are one of them!" Vernon Dursley managed to get out, decidedly less red-faced.

He turned his eyes to the fat man, who quickly took a step back. "I am, and if there's one thing you should know about us wizards, it is that we take family very seriously."

Petunia Dursley finally found her voice again at this, though it only came out as a shaky whisper "What are you going to do to us?"

Regulus knew very well that he couldn't get to them at this point without ruining his plan, but he pretended to consider it anyway. "That depends on you" he finally said.

The Dursleys hurried to assure him they would do anything he asked, if only he didn't hurt them or their son – they disgusted him.

"Harry Potter is to come with me" They looked a bit confused, as if wondering why he would possibly want the boy, but nodded.

"To anyone asking, he is still staying with you" again they nodded. He hadn't spoken a word about what he wanted the boy for, yet they weren't hesitating even one bit about giving him away to a total stranger. This didn't exactly help quell his anger; he decided to wrap thing up quickly lest he give in to temptation and curse the bastards.

"I expect any letter or information concerning Harry to be sent to this mailbox, along with the money you undoubtedly get for taking care of him." He put a note with the information on the table.

At these words Mr Dursley made a sound, as if to protest – most likely over the loss of money – but a glare quickly silenced him.

Regulus now turned to the boy it all concerned "Is there anything you wish to bring along?" Harry stared at him for a second before he nodded and trudged away to the cupboard.

Not even a minute had passed before he had returned, a small bundle in his hands. He stopped in the middle of the room, looking unsure.

Regulus sent him a reassuring smile before turning back towards the boy's relatives. "You will do your very best to keep up appearances, if anyone was to find out, the consequences would be...unfortunate"

Vernon Dursley regained some of his puce colour at the threat "Now you listen here, we're not the ones practically kidnapping the boy!"

Regulus ignored him, instead conjuring up different outcomes to him no longer needing them. "I could get you arrested for child abuse of course, the rumour would spread like Fiendfyre all around the neighbourhood; I would of course make sure it reached your job as well, Vernon." He smiled a little at the horrified gasp this elicited from Petunia Dursley.

"I could attack your economy, make sure you didn't have a penny to your name" his cold smile turned predatory "And when that was done, when you stood there without money or reputation, I could come after your family and curse you all."

A hyperventilating Mrs Dursley stumbled over the words on how they would keep it a secret, until Regulus raised his hand -incidentally the one with his wand- and she fell silent once more.

"Is there anyone who will notice if Harry no longer lives in this place?"

Mrs Dursley considered the question for moment "Mrs Figg, down the street has minded him a couple of times, she's the only one who might wonder. Her and the school."

"You will inform the Headmaster that young Mr Potter has changed school, I will take care of Mrs Figg.''

They simply nodded in response.

"Then it would seem our business here is concluded." He gave them a last disgusted look before turning around. "Come, Harry" He held out his hand which the boy took after a moment's hesitation, and together they walked out of the house into the darkening evening.

After a subtle yet powerful Confundus Charm they left Mrs Figg's Kneezle infested house.

He looked down on the boy still holding his hand, he had already collapsed once today; it was time to bring him home. "We are going to Grimmauld Place 12, Harry. Hold on tight"

With that he Apparated them both.


End file.
